JINGLE ON MY SON!

28.1.18

I am crouched over my sparkling glasswaiting for the sunshine to come through to join me on a winter’s day in Tuebingen,for a leaf to fly through the doorand show me its intricate patternsin my penetrating stare,to skip and danceand float away

like mein a trancein a delicate romance,a rush of poems,a sudden surge of bookletsin my travelling bag,a dream packed into a KLM briefcase;the tightness of a blue skirt,the glance of a flashing winged eyeheading towards me,threatening to make love to me,to blow away this dark newspushing its way into my anxious facefrom a complete stranger’s daily paper.

And Juergen is rocking tonight in a corner,sharing his energy with the moonand I have the smell of a coffee on my sleeve,the evil taste of last night’s schnappson this stooped boy’s lips,the hysterical melancholy that only Tuebingen brings me;along the cobbled path outside the Piccolo windowprances chanceand that girl I’ll never ever knowteasing the slipping tears into my scribbles,her picture forever in my twitching English heart